


There is a desire

by Mix Stitch (Synph)



Category: DCU
Genre: Aftercare, Bratting, Consent, Daddy Kink, Dom/sub, Double Penetration in One Hole, Established Relationship, Foursome - M/M/M/M, Hair-pulling, Identity Porn, Implied Relationships, M/M, Multi, Oral Sex, Sexual Roleplay, Sharing, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-19
Updated: 2014-01-19
Packaged: 2018-01-09 07:33:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,847
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1143244
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Synph/pseuds/Mix%20Stitch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After a few false starts and some impressively bratty behavior, they all get what's coming to them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [st00pz](https://archiveofourown.org/users/st00pz/gifts).



> This is for st00pz who has been nothing but patient and understanding as I've worked on this commission for ages. Serving as a sequel to [Wish Fulfillment](http://archiveofourown.org/works/881796) and drawing upon my Matches + Robbie Malone stuff, this is my attempt to knock my friend's socks off with porn for our shared OTP with a little extra. 
> 
> Major thanks and tons of love goes to my friend [sasha](http://archiveofourown.org/users/glamourghouls/pseuds/glamourghouls) who held my hand for a lot of this, assured me that it was a good read, and edited the heck out of this. <3

Seedy would be a kind word to describe the dark club in the worst part of Star City.

The coordinates in the message that Jason Todd receives on one of his burner phones (from an address connected to Matches Malone, of all of Bruce's myriad identities) leads him to a warehouse on the outskirts of Star City.

Big and blocky with vaguely dirty graffiti splashed on its walls, the outside of the warehouse has certainly seen better days and the neighborhood itself is far from stellar. If Jason didn't pride himself on being a scourge of Gotham City, he might even be worried about his own safety.

As Jason rocks back on his heels so that he can get a good look at the crooked green sign above the massive doors, he feels his top lip curl with disgust.

"Nah, seedy's too nice for this joint," Jason mutters, staring at the bouncer blocking most of the light from the club as his breath fans out in front of him in a faint white cloud. "Way too fuckin' nice..."

Despite the bouncer moving back and forth in order to check IDs, no matter how hard Jason cranes his neck, he can't get more than the briefest glimpse at the club's interior when the door opens. Maybe the inside is better looking compared to the club's crumbling exterior, but Jason won't believe it until he sees it.

It's cold out, colder than a port city this far south has any right to be and with only a t-shirt and a pair of jeans worn with his warmest leather jacket, Jason is still just as cold as he'd be back in Gotham.

Jason scowls, seriously considering trudging back to where he has his bike stowed in one of Roy Harper's old safe-houses. At least there, he'll be warm and (relatively) sure of himself.

Now, staring at that club and trying to figure out whatever Bruce (or Matches, Jason thinks with an aborted snort) has planned for them leaves Jason feeling as though he's not sure of anything. The urge to simply turn around and leave it all behind grows and grows, pulling within Jason's chest until he finds himself turning in the direction where he had come from.

Before Jason can do more than make that little half-turn, a heavy hand comes down on his shoulder and holds him firmly in place, keeping him from looking back.

There's a scent of something sharp and metallic, like the air outside during a thunderstorm. Jason's nose may have been broken more times than he can remember and his sense of smell may not be the best, but there's no mistaking Clark Kent's all-too _alien_ scent for anything else.

Feeling his nose wrinkle, Jason turns around and tilts his head back so that he can look at Clark's bright eyes.

"How long have you been there watching me?" Jason asks with a dry note lingering in his voice. By now, he's used to Clark's sudden appearances. Jason is so used to it by now, that he doesn't so much as glower at the other man standing in front of him. "You could've come down earlier, Clark."

The sharpness of Jason's last comment doesn't escape either him or Clark's notice, but thankfully, Clark deigns to keep his thoughts to himself. For now.

Jason takes in Clark's appearance with a quick onceover that manages to take in all that the other man has to offer in the pale light provided by a flickering lamppost overhead.  Dressed casually in dark blue jeans and a bright red shirt that clings to his upper body, Clark looks as though he's heading out to the movies instead of to a kinky sex club on the other side of the country from where they both live and operate.

Clark smiles, flashing perfect white teeth in a grin that makes Jason feel like smiling in return, and then he squeezes Jason's shoulder hard enough that he feels it through the thick leather of his jacket.

"Long enough that I could tell when you started to get antsy," Clark replies with a little dip of his head. "I _did_ offer to carry you here and back, Jason." Clark's voice holds only the mildest form of censure before he returns to his normally kind tone and Jason can't even manage to get mad at him. "We should go in."

"Or we could just go," Jason mutters.

Clark frowns. "After how far you've come?"

Shrugging, Jason tries to project casualness instead of nerves. Sure, Clark can read him like a book, but that doesn't mean that he needs to be a particularly open one at that.

"I can always get laid some other time," Jason says. "But don't stop on my account, Clark. I can crash somewhere until I can get back to Gotham."

Jason offers Clark a smile that probably looks as fake as it feels on his face and then takes a step backward. Or rather, Jason _tries_ to step backward, but then Clark's grip on his shoulder tightens just beyond the realm of comfortable and he settles for scowling.

"If they're doing this as Matches and Robbie," Clark says. His mouth turns down with a small frown that makes Jason feel like a heel. Even though they're talking about a sex club and having sex with two of their friends, Clark still manages to make Jason feel like there's more that he could be doing. "Then you're going to hate yourself in the morning if you leave now."

There's a second where Jason frowns and opens his mouth to snap "well I hate myself now," just on some foolish instinct, but he forces the thought back down before he can wind up putting his foot in his mouth.

"Oh yeah? Well what if I'm not in the mood to play around with them like this?"

Because playing in a place that's as public as this -- roleplaying at that -- is very different from their last instance of private play several months before.

There, everything was negotiated beforehand. He and Clark knew what they were in for in that out of the way house. Now, aside from a handful of texts written by Bruce as Matches Malone, they're set to start walking into something that they don't have the slightest inkling about.

Bruce and Dick are already kinky fuckers as themselves. Adding the Malones to the mix is just a road to trouble and they both know it.

Jason licks his lips.

"We don't know what kind of freaky shit they're pulling tonight..."

Clark's smile takes on an edge that has a distinctly predatory note to it.

It makes Jason think back to all the times they've spent together over the past few months -- with and without a third (and sometimes, fourth) party -- where Jason definitely wasn't at the top of the heap. It's the kind of look that makes Jason feel like he's being hunted, and he's not all-too sure of how that makes him feel now that they're about to leap headfirst into the unknown.

"Don't look at me like that," Jason spits out, hating the way that his face warms with a flush. "I'm just saying -- This might be a bad idea or something I'm not ready to jump into."

"Well, Jason," Clark murmurs. "You can always sit back for a while until you're sure. I remember how much you enjoyed watching..." Clark lets his sentence trail off into nothingness and that smug smile returns to his face.

"Watching," Jason repeats, feeling his face heat up with a blush that always seems to come about whenever Clark is concerned. His voice rises high enough that he catches the bouncer glancing their way the second that there's a lull in the line in front of him. "I don't _enjoy_ \--"

It only takes one look at Clark's handsome face to make Jason take back his words. One dark eyebrow arches up in an expression of utter disbelief. It's a look that says plain what Clark is thinking: that Jason can't lie worth a damn and that he should stop trying.

"Interesting," Clark says, reaching out to curl his fingers in against the worn collar of Jason's old leather jacket. "I believe Lois has some video footage on her phone that says otherwise."

It's that combination of a possessive touch and Clark's teasing words that gets Jason to give in more than anything else does.

"Okay, fine," Jason snaps. "I'll go in, but if I don't like what's going on, I'm blaming you, _and_ I'm leaving."

Clark's smooth forehead wrinkles with a frown that barely lasts in the space between heartbeats. In no time at all, Clark's expression is back to being open and interested.

With the hand still curled in against Jason's collar, Clark rubs at his skin in a way that's definitely supposed to be comforting. It doesn't work immediately, but then Clark leans in and looks into Jason's eyes and there's an air about him, something soft in his eyes that makes Jason want to slump against the other man and forget about everything.

"Ignore my teasing, Jason. I don't want to force you into doing something you're uncomfortable with," Clark says in a soft tone that holds a wealth of worry within it. "If you want to leave, you should leave. All the kink in the world isn't more important than your comfort."

Jason shakes his head.

"I'm not uncomfortable," he mutters. "I just -- I don't like surprises." And, Jason thinks as he finally forces himself to meet Clark's gaze, he doesn't like worrying about what the night has in store for him.

Clark doesn't give him any grief for it though.

"Would a safeword or two make you feel better about his?" Clark asks in a low voice.

"A safeword?"

"Dick has one," Clark points out (a bit unnecessarily considering how Jason has been there for plenty of scenes with Dick). "Pick two words: one to stop the action and one to take a break from it. The second you use them, if you need to use them, I'll take care of you."

That sounds... nice.

In fact, it sounds doable, and Jason says as much as a faint smile tugs at his mouth.

"What will you choose?" Clark asks.

Jason shrugs.

"Something easy to remember, I think," he mutters. "How about 'hood' and 'Beretta'? That should work."

"You can always walk away," Clark says again. "They'll understand."

"Yeah," Jason says. "I know." He looks up at Clark and then reaches out to pat the other man's chest. "But I want this. I really do."

Jason pulls back and then hitches up his jacket, sinking into the warmth of the leather because he knows how this goes. He has a role to play once they get past the bouncer.

Once inside the club, they're not Jason and Clark, two heroes out for a night on the town. They're Jay and whatever name Clark picked for the night and the relationship that they're playing out tonight is so far from their usual dynamic.

"Lead the way," Jason grumbles. When Clark does just that a moment later, he has no other choice than to follow, torn between complaining and an uneasy, wavering feeling of hungry curiosity that has been present since the moment that he received that text.

Jason tries to comfort himself with one thought. Regardless of whatever happens tonight, at least it's bound to be interesting. 


	2. Chapter 2

Robbie Malone has been a good boy.

Well, he's as good as one of Matches Malone's boys can be. In the months leading up to his birthday, Robbie has done everything right. He's knocked the right heads together for Matches' sake and made himself scarce the moment that Matches looks at him a certain way. Robbie has been _good_ and he expects that he's going to get something nice out of behaving so well for so long.

'Something nice' comes in the form of a knock on the door to their private room in the club (although Dick doesn't quite get that _this_ is his present until he's already in hot water).

The thud of someone putting their fist to the sturdy metal door is loud, loud enough to be heard over the pulsing beat of the music coming over the club's sound system. Despite the fact that soundproofing on these private rooms is supposed to work both ways, Robbie still winds up finding himself jolted out of his nice and comfortable position sitting astride Matches' massive lap.

"Get the door, baby," Matches says with his usual smarmy smirk settled firmly on his thin lips.

When Robbie takes too long to move (or maybe, just for the hell of it), Matches grabs him and flips him right over his lap. Matches pops Robbie a couple good hard ones right on his ass as though he's a child. The impromptu spanking session lasts maybe a handful of seconds, barely long enough to cause another spate of thunderous knocking, but by the time Matches is through, Robbie nearly dances right over to the door in his haste to get off the daybed taking up much of the space in their private room.

(But Matches isn't that lucky.)

Robbie reaches for the door with one hand, pulling down the back of his shorts with the other. Expecting the club's owners or one of the nosy people that'd been watching them out on the floor earlier, Robbie doesn't bother with manners.

"What do you want?" Robbie snaps as he yanks open the door. "We're a little busy in here -- Oh!"

In a flash, Robbie's mood changes once he sees who's standing before him, going from impatient to interested in no time at all. One of the men is only mildly familiar -- probably one of Matches' so-called friends that never seems to linger long in Robbie's memory or in Matches' good books--, but the other one... The one without a smile on his handsome face is someone that Robbie couldn't forget even if he wanted to.

"Jay," Robbie cries out, reaching and pulling his friend into a tight hug. "What are you doing here?" Ignoring Jay's half-hearted murmuring, Robbie squeezes him even tighter and then presses a kiss to one corner of Jay's mouth. "It's been _ages_!"

Jay lets him get away with the first kiss, but when Robbie tilts his head up as though asking for another, Jason shakes his head.

"Can you at least let me get in the door," Jay says with a roll of his dark blue eyes.

One of Jay's hands migrates to Robbie's side, curving into the skin exposed by a gap in Robbie's too-small t-shirt. The squeeze of his friend's strong fingers almost makes up for the fact that Robbie isn't getting what he wants.

Robbie snorts.

"Well excuse me for being happy to see you," he says, injecting a little mock-annoyance into his voice.

Robbie steps out of the way, moving back to where Matches is still sitting sprawled across the couch. He retakes his seat in Matches' lap, wriggling around until one of Matches' big hands presses into his left thigh to still him. 

"Who's your friend, Jay?" Matches asks, letting his gaze drag up the length of Jay's body. He doesn't actually look at Jay's companion, choosing instead to make Jay feel the brunt of his attention. "Don't tell me you're finally settling down."

In Matches' heavy accent, the words sound mocking to Robbie's ears and Jay reacts accordingly, baring his teeth in a way that's more like a grimace than a smile.

"He's not my _friend_ ," Jay snaps. "He's --"

Before Jay can give into Matches' goading and go off, the man behind him steps forward, taking a little bit of the heat from off Jay.

"I'm Kent," he says with a wide smile that makes Robbie feel like smiling right back at him. "Jay and I have a few... interests in common. I'm told that you and your boy share those interests."

Matches utters an interested-sounding noise and the hand that he has on Robbie's thigh starts to rub small circles into the scarred-up skin there.

"Oh yeah? And what kind of interests are those?"

Already slightly bored, Robbie leans backward, letting his head come to rest against the rise of one of Matches' strong shoulders.

He's been half-hard for ages, but with Jay and Kent standing there and implying all sorts of things, Robbie's imagination gets the best of him. Within moments, Robbie feels his dick start to strain uncomfortably against the front of his skimpy black shorts and he squirms, eager to get somewhere beyond their current rut of boring conversations.

Negotiations can take forever, but Robbie has a surefire way to get what he wants, when he wants it.

Being a brat has yet to fail him.

"I don't really care what you're interested in," Robbie drawls. He ignores the pinch that Matches delivers to his skin and continues talking as though his thighs aren't killing him. "If it doesn't end in me getting fucked, it's obviously not important."

Matches growls against Robbie's ear. "Wanna try that again, boy?"

Robbie rolls his eyes, making sure that Matches sees the uncaring expression as it steals across his face.

"Nope," he says, letting a cheeky grin settle on his face. "I already told you what I wanted, Daddy."

After that, Matches doesn't waste any time. His lips press together in a disapproving frown and his eyes narrow as he takes in Robbie's lazy sprawl across his lap.

"Get up," Matches orders Robbie in a tone that reminds Robbie of gravel rubbing together.

As with before, Matches doesn't wait for Robbie to stand up on his own. He pushes Robbie out of his lap and then glares up at his younger lover with a thunderous look of anger on his face. "You're pushing it. Don't make me punish you in front of Jay and his friend."

Despite the threat and the knowledge that Matches _will_ carry it out, Robbie can't stop himself from grinning at his lover.

Out of the corners of his eyes, Robbie catches Jay dropping down to sit on the far end of the couch and pulling Kent down to sit beside him. If they're settling in for the long haul, that adds an extra dimension to Robbie's plan.

"I thought that was the whole point, Matches," Robbie says.

Glancing over at Jay and Kent, Robbie feels his grin get a little wider when he notices the interested looks the two men send his way (and the impressive bulge tenting out the front of Kent's pants).

Sure, this isn't the sort of showing off that he's best at, but it's the best he can do for now.

Either way, it's working well for Robbie _and_ their guests.

Turning back to Matches, Robbie puts his hands on his hips. "Or did you bring me to a sex club for some other reason?"

That does the trick.

Matches grabs hold of Robbie's left arm without further conversation. His fingers press into the bend of Robbie's elbow and when he yanks Robbie down across his lap, there's no gentleness there.

When Robbie's chest comes down across Matches' strong thighs, the air pushes out of Robbie's chest in the form of a low grunt. He squirms because it's expected of him, struggling as though Matches' arm will suddenly stop pressing into his back and holding him in place in a way that mimics his earlier positioning.

"Hey --" Robbie's attempt at crying out winds up cut short when Matches hands go for the waistband of his shorts.

Sure, it's mostly play, but Matches probably doesn't know that.

Not yet, Robbie thinks. If he is, he sure is doing one hell of a job acting like he's really pissed off.

Matches isn't even _close_ to gentle about getting into Robbie's pants. Matches yanks Robbie's shorts down with one meaty hand and manhandles Robbie until he's bare from the waist down and the front of his body is pressed against Matches' huge thighs.

"You know the drill, Robbie," -- and that's a sign that Robbie's in trouble if he's ever seen one and yet somehow, Robbie manages to get even more turned on by the biting tone of Matches' voice -- "I don't have patience for brats. If you keep mouthin' off to me while your friends are here, you're going to get a lot more than a spanking."

Robbie opens his mouth -- to mouth off or goad Matches into some kind of action, he doesn't even know -- but then Matches makes his move. After that, the only thing Robbie can do is cry out and try not to embarrass himself in front of Jay and Kent.

The first open-palmed smack that crashes down across Robbie's ass makes him _squeal_. It's in the top ten of most embarrassing noises that Robbie has made all year, and that makes him flush and try to wiggle away more than anything else.

It hurts.

Matches doesn't pull his punches, or his spankings, and this time isn't no different. If anything, it feels like he's hitting Robbie twice as hard as usual just to make his point sink in, but it still gets Robbie exactly where he wants to go.

For once, Matches doesn't make Robbie count off the blows that land across his ass and upper thighs. Which is great because Robbie doesn't even know how he's breathing through the pain and pleasure of those hard spanks to his skin.

Counting, or even _thinking_ beyond how much his ass _hurts_ , is currently beyond him.

All Robbie can do is suck in these increasingly shaky breaths and try his hardest not to come all over Matches' thighs as whisper, whimpery cries fall from his lips.

"P-please, Matches," Robbie croons, wriggling against the heavy weight of Matches' hand against the small of his back. "I-I need more -- "

When his lover pauses to wind a hand in his hair, the rough grip nearly undoes Robbie completely. Matches' grip is firm enough to direct Robbie's gaze where he wants it, but it remains a far cry from the force necessary for pulling out his hair.

Matches makes Robbie look at where Jay and Kent are sitting together, watching them with hungry eyes and parted lips. As they observe the other men, Robbie watches with wide eyes as Jay actually slips one hand in between Kent's legs to rub at where his erection surges against the front of his pants.

"You're being punished, baby," Matches says when Robbie whines and tries to drive his own groin down against Matches' lap. "You earned this by being mouthy in front of company and you still want to have it your way." He snorts and then continues speaking, using a disdainful tone that leaves Robbie panting for air as desire seems to punch him in the chest. "You're such a greedy little thing aren't you?"

Despite how much it stings to yank against the hold that Matches has on his hair, Robbie nods his head anyways.

"Y-yes," he blurts out immediately, trying to show how eager he is for whatever else Matches has in mind. When Matches merely laughs and returns to spanking him, Robbie sobs aloud at how perfect and yet unsatisfying the action alone is.

 Every single strike from Matches' huge hands drives Robbie's dick down against Matches' thighs and Robbie pants, shuddering as the pain of his spanking wars with the pleasure that comes from rubbing against Matches' leg.

Robbie loses track of things -- loses track of everything aside from the fire that feels like it's licking its way up his spine. When Matches finally stops spanking him, Robbie hears himself whimper and -- if he's being honest with himself, -- he feels like he's seconds away from melting into a little puddle in Matches' lap.

His thighs ache, his ass stings, and yet Robbie can't remember ever being harder in his life.

Even the feeling of embarrassment has waned. Robbie knows that Jay and Kent are still there, and that they've witnessed Matches spanking his ass like he's a kid, but with his skin feeling a size too small and his body aching like he's never been touched before... Well, Robbie can only care so much about so many things when he feels like this.

Matches pats Robbie's ass lightly, tapping him right on top of a real tender spot before starting to rub Robbie's skin with wide circles.

"Are you going to behave now, baby?" Matches asks once Robbie relaxes against his legs and subsides into quiet sniffling. "Or do I have to embarrass you again in front of your friends?"

"But Matches," Robbie says. "I --"

Robbie doesn't get to finish speaking because one last _hard_ tap right against his skin leaves him gasping out Matches' name.

"Hey!" Robbie blurts out, bolting up from Matches' lap as fast as he can without toppling over and landing on his ass. "That hurt! I didn't even _do_ anything!"

Matches' answering smile is sharp enough to wound. "You think I didn't notice that you were being a brat on purpose?"

Robbie flinches underneath Matches' hard stare.

"I just -- I wanted --" When Robbie can't find the words he wants to say, he hangs his head instead and sighs. "I'm sorry, Daddy."

Instead of letting Robbie off the hook, Matches keeps needling him. "You can apologize all you want, baby, but if you don't _act_ like you mean it, you'll just wind up with another spanking."

The thought of getting another spanking makes Robbie flinch and frown despite how his dick reacts by twitching hard.

"I'll be good," Robbie blurts out.

When Matches just looks at him with one eyebrow raised, Robbie quickly backpedals.

"Well -- I'll try to be good," Robbie mutters, looking away from Matches at where Jay and Kent are sitting across from them and smiling with nearly identical looks of amusement on their faces. "That's a start right?"

Out of all the responses that Robbie is expecting to get from Matches because of his cheek -- another spanking, a scolding maybe, or some other kind of punishment -- what he gets is something way out of left field.

"If you really feel bad about your bratty behavior, you need to show it," Matches murmurs, settling one hand on the small of Robbie's back. "Starting with our guests."

*

Matches is a huge fucking pervert.

Robbie knows it, Jay knows it, and by now, Kent knows it as well.

After all, he's the least involved person in the room so far and he has a front row seat to what's going on between the trio taking up the couch. He can probably see everything, from how Matches has one hand working busily between Robbie's legs to the way that Robbie slurps and drools thanks to where Jay's dick has his mouth stretched open wide.

Aside from the notes from the music piped in from the club's main sound system, the soundtrack to scene in the room comprises of the sort of sounds that only bodies in close proximity make.

Those gasping breaths that Robbie drags in every time Jay pulls his dick out of his mouth --

The obscene squelching noises that occur every time that Matches pushes his lube-slicked fingers into Robbie's body to open him up--

Kent's murmurs of appreciation as he watches Jay and Matches turn Robbie into a squirming wreck between them --

And overlying it all is Matches' own special brand of dirty talk.

"You don't have to watch, Kent," Matches says as his gaze falls on the other man. "Robbie's a big boy. I think he can handle all three of us."

When Jay and Kent both stare at Matches without getting it, Matches sucks his teeth in a clear sign of exasperation, and then shifts, stretching out one long arm so that he can tangle his fingers in Robbie's hair when Jay slides out of his mouth. He holds Robbie's head at an angle that leaves his flushed features and swollen mouth clearly visible to everyone else in the room.

"Do I need to spell it out for you two?"

Robbie whines, the sound coming out high and nasal as his fingers dig into the cushions of the daybed underneath him. Robbie breathes like he's been running a race, breathing loudly through his nose as he stares up at Matches with his eyes gone wide.

"D-Daddy, please --"

Robbie stutters as he speaks, as pleasure wipes his brain clean of everything but what his body is crying out for. He can't even _pretend_ to hold himself together. His eyes dart around the room, seemingly unable to focus on any one thing, and he shakes, feeling his body tightening around the fingers that his daddy has inside of him.

Jay's laughter tugs at Robbie's fraying attention.

"Just a few fingers and you're already like this," he says in an awe-tinged murmur. He halts the slow motions of his hand on his dick and then looks down at Matches' face. "Are you sure --"

Matches cuts Jay off before he can finish asking his question.

"Robbie can take whatever you two're willing to dish out," Matches says with a confident note in his deep voice. He loosens his grip on Robbie's long black hair and then addresses his younger lover in what has to be the gentlest tone that he's used all night. "Ain't that right, baby?"

"Y-yes, Daddy," Robbie says thickly as he glances back and forth between Matches and Jay. A moment later, when Matches adds another lube-slicked finger to the three already inside of him, Robbie's back bows and his own fingers scrabble over the top of the daybed. "Daddy -- _Oh_!"

Matches curls his fingers up, rubbing against Robbie's prostate until his boy's dick twitches and spits precome over his belly.

"That's it, baby," Matches murmurs, crooning the words as Robbie's body clenches around his lubricant-slicked fingers. "Just a little bit more and then you'll get to have me."

"A-and then?" Robbie's voice is barely audible above the constant squishing and squelching noises coming from where Matches has Robbie's hole stretched out around most of his hand. " _Fuck_!"

Matches twists his fingers inside of Robbie, fingering him open until Robbie's toes curl down against the soles of his feet. When Robbie's muscles spasm around his hand in a way that's most reminiscent of a pending orgasm, Matches pulls his fingers out slowly and grins.

"I think you're ready, baby."

*

Figuring out a position takes them more time than they have any right spending on something that's a mere precursor to sex.

Eventually, Jay and Matches figure out the best arrangement that leaves them with near complete access to Robbie's lean body. Jay stretches out on the couch, fingers curving in against Robbie's narrow hips as Matches guides Robbie down on top of his dick. The position leaves Jay almost as exposed as Robbie is atop him, and Jay's dick spits precome like a faucet, sending trails of near-translucent fluid trickling down his shaft and Matches' hand where the other man is holding him steady.

Kent is closer now, sitting on the far side of the daybed with his dick in his hand and a hungry look on his face. He's out of the way, but not gone, and the weight of his gaze lingers over the three men like a particularly heavy blanket.

At the first touch of Jay's cockhead to Robbie's hole, the older man groans and starts to strain against the hands that keep him from simply _taking_ what he wants. He takes Jay in inch by inch until finally, his body rests flush against that of Jay's beneath him.

The pleasure is enormous and almost unbearable to Robbie.  It tears through him like a knife, rending him to his base elements as he tries to get Jay to move inside of him. However, no matter how hard he tries to pull away from Matches' hands, he doesn't manage to budge. No matter how hard he tries to buck his hips in order to ride Jay like he wants, Matches' big hands don't let him move an inch.

"Stay still," Matches orders, his tone not as harsh as it could be.

When Robbie ignores him in favor of a sort of steadier squirming, Matches reaches up and curls his fingers around the flushed shaft of Robbie's erection, stroking it with a tight grip that manages in an instant to do what the orders alone couldn't achieve.

Robbie stills immediately, groaning as his dick spits and spills precome all over the thick fingers stroking him. Matches rewards him with another twist of his fingers and a smile that reaches all the way up to his dark eyes. "This might feel a bit... uncomfortable. If it starts to hurt, tell me. Don't hold it in."

Robbie blinks multiple times in quick succession. "What might hurt." he asks, eyes widening once more.

Matches pulls his hand away from Robbie's sweat-slicked body and reaches for the half-empty tube of lubricant. Squeezing a good-sized amount out onto the fingers of his right hand, Kent holds Robbie's gaze as he traces his fingertips over where the girth of Jay's dick has Robbie's hole stretched wide open.

"You're going to need a little more work before you can take us both." When he hears the yelp that Robbie can't stop himself from uttering, Matches smiles in what would be a reassuring way if not for the steady slide of his finger into Robbie's already full hole. "Just breathe, baby. If you need me to stop, even if it's right now... I'll get you through it. Okay, baby?"

Robbie nods his head quickly. "Okay, Matches," he says, smiling despite the shaky note in his voice. "I will."

At first, it doesn't feel good. Robbie's discomfort shows plain on his face when Matches opens him up with another finger. It also shows in the soft noises that Robbie makes, a series harsh panting breaths that he keeps sucking in as Matches eases him open further.

And then after several moments of careful preparation and penetration...

It all turns to something good.

Pleasure starts to burn low in Robbie's belly and he responds in kind, shifting and moaning around the stretch of having Matches and Jay inside him at the same time.

"How do you feel?" Matches asks, brows furrowed as he looks up at Robbie's flushed face. The tenderness in his expression lasts for only moments, returning to a sharply smug smile when Robbie nods his head again in response and then clenches around the fingers and cock spearing him open.

Jay answers before Robbie can, speaking in a choked up whisper. "Holy sh-shit, this is tight! You're gonna let me move soon right?"

"Not you," Robbie hisses. "Matches is talking to _me_ and for the record, it's -- it's a lot."

The question of "Does it hurt," comes from Kent, and Robbie responds by shaking his head and glancing over at Jay's lover.

"Not really," he admits. "It's just... tight. A little um... pinchy, but I think I'm good."

"Good boy."

Matches' praise, sparse though it may be, works wonders on getting Robbie to that dreamy, boneless state that they all need him to be at. In response to Matches' praise, Robbie sinks down against Jay's body, a moan pushing out of his throat when Matches' fingers find his prostate and give it a good rub.

The pleasure that comes from that feels like lightning, as if sparks of electricity are running through him and making him feel like jelly. Robbie's moans grow louder and the little half-aborted thrusts of his hips grow faster as though he's trying to get Matches and Jay deeper.

"Come on," Robbie pleads. "I'm ready. I don't need any more than this."

"If you're sure --"

Robbie growls and reaches up for Matches, looping his arms around the other man's strong neck to pull him in close and hold him still.

"I'm sure," he says and it's almost a snarl. "If I have a problem, I'll tell you. Now just do it!"

It's slow-going, but entirely worth it.

Matches takes his time pressing into Robbie's body, pausing at every single noise that he hears from him or Jay. By the time both he and Jay come to some sort of tacit agreement with their initial rhythm, Robbie is a mess between them. With his skin flushed and slick with sweat, Robbie looks as though he's seconds away from coming even though they've only just begun. Robbie moans softly.

Underneath them both, Jay groans and throws his head back against the cushions hard enough that the thud is audible to them all. "C-can I fucking move now or what?"

"Jay --"

"Please," Robbie says, pleading in a desperate tone that makes Matches groan and rock his hips a little harder than he probably means to. "F-fuck -- do whatever you want. I just -- Please just move!"

Matches holds off for a moment, easing back until he can look away from Robbie's flushed face at where Kent is sitting nearby. "Feel free to join us anytime," Matches says, making a pretty generous offer for him. "Robbie can take it."

Kent joins them in their tangle of limbs of sweaty bodies, and for a while at least, the club's soundtrack winds up being drowned out by a better one.


	3. Chapter 3

Hours later, Dick can be himself again.

Bruce may not have a number of semi-romantic hideaways secreted all over the Star City the way he does in Gotham, but the Wayne name gets them so much more. It gets him the penthouse suite at the Star City Chilton and all the room service that Jason and Clark can eat. It also gets Dick some much-needed aftercare at Bruce's capable hands.

"You were lovely tonight," Bruce says, keeping his voice low and his tone steady as he combs his fingers through Dick's damp hair. He pets Dick slowly, continuing the lengthy process of bringing Dick back to earth after hours of play. "I'll bet Jason and Clark thought so too."

Dick utters a humming noise of exhausted approval and turns, pressing the side of his face against Bruce's bare thigh. "It was fun," he murmurs, eyes squeezing shut as Bruce starts to rub his scalp in an impromptu massage. "A little awkward though..."

"Awkward?" Bruce asks.

"Clark didn't even get to do much the first time and there wasn't a lot of room for all four of us at once," Dick complains. "It was nice, but next time -- Maybe next time we could do more planning ahead?" Dick yawns again, but then perks up. "And you need to bring more lube too."

That definitely gets Bruce's attention.

"Are you hurt? Are you sore?" Bruce looks at Dick with worry plain in his dark blue eyes.

Dick cracks a smile. "Am I sore," he says with a roll of his eyes. "Of course I'm sore. You try having this much anal sex in one night with only a few breaks. But really, the lube thing isn't about me being sore."

"Oh," Bruce says with a note of embarrassment in his voice. "Then  what --"

"Running out of lube in the middle of an orgy doesn't seem a little... weird to you?" Dick tilts his head back and laughs, baring his throat and the bruises that cover it liberally to Bruce's eyes. "We never run out at home."

Bruce catches the hint that Dick dangles right in front of him. "You want to do this again? At the manor?"

Dick doesn't exactly answer Bruce's question on the first go.

"I like Jason and Clark," Dick muses, "Maybe next time Clark can see if Lois'll be up for it. The bed in the master suite is big enough for five isn't it?" At Bruce's stilted nod Dick carries on speaking. "You don't mind do you?"

Caught off guard for a moment, Bruce blurts out the first thing that comes to mind. "I don't mind, but... Lois? I thought you'd say Selina if you were going to pick someone new to add to this."

Dick's eyebrows draw together in a mild frown. "Selina, hm? That has potential."

"Dick!"

"I'm just playing with you, Bruce," Dick says with a smile bright enough to light up the night. "Selina's too scratchy and I think that three in a bed is definitely Lois's limit as far as these things go. What we have is more than enough."

Bruce finds himself smiling back at Dick. It's one of those sweet and sappy smiles that tells anyone that sees it just how much love Bruce holds in his heart for Dick and he clears his throat quickly, trying to smooth his expression out to something a little more appropriate for a man his age.

"Are you sure you don't want more?"

Dick grins and then tilts his head back so that he can look up at Bruce's handsome face. "Like I would know what to do with another lover in my bed..."

 


End file.
